


Clockwork Angel 2.0?

by danipunzel



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danipunzel/pseuds/danipunzel
Summary: This is my useless attempt at rewriting TID bc I’m dumb :D
Relationships: Jem Carstairs & Tessa Gray & Will Herondale, Jem Carstairs/Tessa Gray, Tessa Gray/Will Herondale
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Clockwork Angel 2.0?

_“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightening, or frost from fire.”_

**London, March 1878**

Tessa stepped off the ship, the London air foggy and the sky gray. It was noon and the docks were crowded with people. She glanced around, her gaze sweeping over the families reuniting and embracing each other. Small children were running around, making their way through the crowd, their parents yelling after them.

Her heart ached for her home in New York where she had lived with her aunt Harriet. She missed her terribly. A feeling of intense sorrow gripped her as she stood in the middle of the assembly of people in the harbor.

Her brother Nathaniel had sent her a letter after their aunt’s death, urging her to join him in London now that she had no one to look after her in New York. And here she was, making her way through the crowd, her eyes sweeping over every person for a glimpse of her brother.

Tessa clutched at the necklace that rested at her throat. It was a tiny statuette of an angel, its wings folded at its side. The angel’s hands crossed over a sword in front. She knew the angel was made out of clockwork because if she lifted it to her ear she could hear it ticking like a watch. The necklace had once been her mother’s, who had been wearing it when she died. Later her brother had tried, in vain, to find a way by which the angel might be wound. From the moment Nate had given it to her, she had never taken it off; even at night the angel lay against her chest as she slept, its constant ticktock, ticktock like the beating of a second heart.

Since the Gray family had never been particularly well off, she was carrying all of her belongings in a small suitcase, the weight of it an anchor in her state of distress. Tessa knew Nate was the sort to forget appointments and important occurrences, which made her worry he had forgotten about her. She feared he would not come for her, leaving her to wander through the streets of London on her own. In his letter he had not disclosed his address and Tessa knew nothing of his workplace either. Searching for him in this city would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Half an hour later she was still at the docks. the crowd was starting to thin as people left for their homes. Tessa found herself standing close to a young man, maybe in his twenties, who was gripping his coat around him tightly, his head bent as if to shield himself from the frigid London air. Just as she was about to leave, a coach rolled onto the docks. Two black horses were pulling it along the cobblestone street, a coachman seated in the box in the front. He was an older gentleman with a sour look on his face who stayed in his seat even as the carriage came to a stop.

The door of the coach swung open and Tessa let out a sigh of relief when she saw Nate step out. He was hatless and the blond strands of his hair danced back and forth with the wind. Her brother said something to the coachman who was straightening his tall hat—looking as if someone had stepped on his toes—and then turned and made his way toward her. He had a sheepish smile on his face as he approached her and Tessa’s vexation from before all but disappeared. How she had missed him.

“Tessie, you look well.” He swept her up in a quick embrace. “I do hope you had a pleasant enough time on the ship.”

Tessa smiled at him. “It was as pleasant as any weeks long trip on a ship can be, I suppose.” She said lightly.

But Nate was not paying attention to her anymore. His gaze had started drifting over the faces of the few people standing in close proximity to them. He had a frown on his face, his blue eyes narrowed as he looked at something in the distance.

“Nate?” Tessa followed his gaze, her eyes landing on the Main, the ship she had spent nearly two weeks on. “Is everything all right?”

Nate turned to look at her, but Tessa knew he wasn’t actually seeing her. His mind had wandered somewhere else. She sighed, grabbed her suitcase and pulled her brother along with her as she made her way to the carriage.

She looked at the coachman, acknowledging him with a quick “Good day, sir.”, before herding her brother inside and climbing in after him. She sat across from Nate, attempting to talk to him, but he did not seem very interested in what she had to say about her last days in New York.

“Tessie.” He interrupted her in the middle of explaining how her landlord had harassed her to pay an extra fee for leaving the apartment—in what he deemed to be a ‘less than pristine’ state. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

Tessa frowned. “Well, yes. I have been trying to have a conversation with you for the past ten minutes, Nate.” She said bewildered. Concerned for her brother, she bent forward and put her hand on his forehead. “You don’t seem to be running a fever.” She muttered.

“Stop that.” Nate slapped her hand away and Tessa stared at him, her eyes wide. She tried not to show the hurt on her face. Her brother had always been distant, his head always in the clouds—a lot more interested in his dreams than his own family. But the young man sitting in front of her now seemed cold and detached in a way that made Tessa feel as if she was in the company of a stranger.

William Herondale grinned as the demon exploded around his seraph blade. The infernal creature vanished, returning to whatever dimension it had come from. The shining blade had become damaged by the demon’s ichor and Will tossed it aside, swearing under his breath. He stepped over the mess in front of him and looked around the alley. It was dark and if he hadn’t drawn a rune on himself to improve his night vision, he would not have been able to see an inch in front of him.

“Jem, did you see that?” Will called. “Where are you? You ought to have seen me kill it with one blow!” But there was no sign of his parabatai. Jem had been fighting another demon just a few moments before, but the alley was empty safe for Will himself now. And he hated showing off without anyone there to witness it.

“James Carstairs, reveal your whereabouts or I shall have to resort to throwing myself into the Thames!”

“Follow the witchlight.” Said a soft voice from the other end of the alley. Will followed the soft glow of the witchlight and found Jem crouched over a body between two warehouses. Blood was soaking his gear and painting the street dark red.

“Are you hurt?” Will asked, his voice strained. He knew Jem was unharmed. If he was, Will would have felt it through their parabatai bond. But he could not stop himself from worrying. He always worried when it came to Jem’s health.

“No, this is not my blood.” He looked up at Will, his silver eyes sharp and focused. “It’s the mundane’s.” He said as he stood up and moved back to allow Will a clear view of the dead woman lying on the ground.

Her body had been torn open from the chest down, exposing her organs. Will could count her ribs from where he was standing. He had to force himself not to look away. It was not a pretty sight, even for Jem and Will who were used to dealing with death from a young age.

“Do you think this was a random attack?” Jem asked, the gentle tone of his voice not betraying how disturbed Will knew he must have felt.

“No. This is the fifth mundane to die because of a Shax demon this week. I suspect someone or something more powerful is behind these attacks.”

Jem nodded. “It’s very odd. Lower demons like the Shax are not exactly known for their cunning.”

Which meant they had to investigate the trail of bodies the demons had left throughout the city. Will felt the strange thrill he had become familiar with over the years, the one that creeped up on him whenever he was presented with a brand new quest. A new distraction.

“We had better leave before the mundanes discover the body.” He said.

“May you find peace.” Jem said sadly, looking down at the body.


End file.
